


Cooler Than Me

by CCaptainRex



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Lowkey a songfic but only one line is used lol, Reader-Insert, Romance, Slow Romance, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:49:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28494882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CCaptainRex/pseuds/CCaptainRex
Summary: 11:43.In seventeen minutes, it would be your birthday. Another year older, another year wiser, and another day spent alone.Clay has other ideas.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 187





	Cooler Than Me

11:43. 

In seventeen minutes, it would be your birthday. Another year older, another year wiser, and another day spent alone. Moving to Florida for university meant that there wouldn't be a big party with family and friends, and a mix of Covid and uninterested roommates meant you couldn't even do something small.

In seventeen minutes, it would be your birthday. Or, in this mess of a world, it would be just another day. 

_You got designer shades just to hide your face, and you wear 'em around like you're cooler than me and you never say hey, or remember my name and it's probably 'cause you think you're cooler than me._

You listen in confusion as Clay's ringtone goes off, and wonder what he could possibly be calling about at this hour. As you listen to the lyrics you smile to yourself, and remember why exactly you'd chosen this random song to be his. Your first meeting with Clay was less than perfect, to say the least - You'd gone to some college party, and bumped into a friend of a friend, wearing ungodly sunglasses and drunk out of his mind. 

You'd made a joke about wearing sunglasses at night, and he'd drunkenly responded it made him cooler. You'd spent the rest of the night trying to skip rocks across the pool and trying to steal his sunglasses, and he'd forgotten your name halfway through the night and just starting referring to you as 'Girl.' After an extremely apologetic phone call the next day (you don't remember giving him your number), he asked you for your name and his sunglasses back and since then, you'd been...friends. 

Friends is a weird term. There's an attraction there, but something's kept you apart, whether it had been your now ex, or his career as a streamer. At first, you thought he was bullshitting you again, but in reality, he played Minecraft for a living. The sunglasses had been his drunken way of protecting his identity, but you'll never let him live it down. Whatever it was, you danced in circles around each other, and it was starting to drive you crazy. "Hello?" 

"Do you know what day it is tomorrow?" He asks nonchalantly, and you snort out a laugh. Of course he's calling about your birthday the one time you decided to wallow in pity about it. You wrap your blankets tighter around yourself and burrow deeper into your mattress.

"Thursday?" You respond coyly, and he scoffs on the other end. 

"It's your birthday, genius." For a moment you wonder why he's calling you about your birthday now, but knowing his sleep schedule and streams, now was probably the only time he was free.

Well, at least he bothered to call. "Oh, really? Hadn't noticed." 

"Haha, very funny." He deadpans, and you laugh to yourself. He chuckles softly with you, and you hate how the sound makes your blush. Some nights, you stay up just to watch his streams and listen to him talk. It's strange, knowing you can see his face anytime you want and yet the rest of the world can't. "Any big plans?" 

"Might microwave myself some bagel bites and stick a candle in it." You doubt you even own candles, but it's the most you can do.

"Really? That's it?" He sounds shocked, and it makes you wonder what he knows about your social life/friend groups, both being somewhat nonexistent.

"If you haven't noticed, there's a pandemic going on and I know no one in Florida." You reply dryly.

"You know me." You can tell he's smiling as he says it, and you have to bury your face into you pillow for a moment before responding.

Why did he have to be so cute sometimes? "I don't see you taking me out though, now are you?" 

"Well there's a reason I'm in your parking lot, you better be out here in five minutes or I'm egging your building." With that, he hangs up, and your left astonished as you stare out the window and sure enough, Clay is leaned up against his car outside in the parking lot, phone in hand. For someone who's identity is a secret on the internet, he couldn't be more obvious with his neon green Dream hoodie. You rush out of bed and change, but considering he hasn't told you exactly what you're doing, you hope you don't need anything more than your hoodie. 

You rush out the door and outside, not caring to tell anyone where you're going. Clay smiles as you approach, hands stuffed into his pockets as he's perched on the hood of his old car. For someone who probably makes a fair chunk of money, he doesn't flaunt it - He's had the same car for what you think is forever, not bothering to splurge on anything fancier. "What the hell are you doing?" You ask, and he shrugs. 

"I thought I'd come annoy you for your birthday, it's my present to you." You scowl up at him and he laughs, the sound echoing around the empty lot. "Fine, fine, I came to take you out for Mcdonalds. It's tradition, right?" 

If you could call eating at Mcdonalds a tradition, sure. After stealing his sunglasses, you'd agreed to return them at a nearby Mcdonalds - a common ground just in case he was a creep. You ended up spending an afternoon in a corner booth eating and laughing about nothing in particular, and you never did give him his sunglasses back. "Mcdonalds at midnight though?" 

"Well you're awake, aren't you?" You roll your eyes and move to the passenger side door. Clay had one of the weirdest sleep schedules you knew of (apparently synced with some friend in the UK), meaning that he was awake when you weren't, or vice versa. Midnight is the rare hour you have together, whether you like it or not. 

You sit and kick your feet up on the dash, and Clay glares at you as he starts the car. It was an on-running joke that Clay hated having people's feet up on the dash, so you did it purposefully to annoy him. He flicks your knee and turns on the radio, which blares some pop song and almost bursts your eardrums. "Jesus, Clay!" 

"Sorry, sorry, I was playing something earlier-" He quickly turns the volume down as you dissolve into laughter, picturing him blaring music on his way over here. "What?" 

"Nothing, nothing." He finally pulls out of the parking lot, and you lean over to mess with the channels, but Clay bats your hand away. 

"Last time I let you mess with my radio we listened to Dancing Queen on repeat for five hours." He grumbles, and you cross your arms.

"And? Is that a problem?" You make eye contact, and Clay stares you down long enough for you to be worried about him driving, and you're the first to break eye contact to make sure you're not driving on the opposite side of the road. "Eyes on the road, dipshit." 

Clay laughs, it quickly turning into a wheeze. "We're at a red light!" 

"Still! What if some psycho was to come barreling down the road? If you watched, you could swerve." You feel yourself blush slightly, turning away to watch the trees pass as the light turns green. When you do glance back over your shoulder, Clay is still watching you.

"Why can't I look at you?" God, why does he have to say these things? You swear you melt in your seat, trying to come up with a half-baked excuse.

"Because I don't want to die, Clay." At that, he turns back to the road, humming along to whatever song is on the radio that you can't hear over the sound of your own pounding heart. 

11:52. "Hey, eight minutes until you're old." You swat his arm with a scoff and he breaks out into his high-pitched laughter, ever so contagious, and you can't help but giggle to yourself. "What, that's a compliment. Means your wise and stuff. And will soon get grey hair." 

"Maybe I'll dye it grey, beat it to the punch-" 

"Don't." Clay completely cuts off your sentence, and you turn to stare at him and he realizes how strictly he spoke, mouth opening and closing rapidly. "Grey, uh, doesn't compliment your skin tone." 

"Since when did you become a colour expert?" You joke, but neither of your laugh. You fall into a strange silence, that's not quite awkward, but not normal either. Why did he act like that? Was grey hair really that bad? You remember Clay once said he liked your hair colour, and the two sentences collide in your brain to make you blush.

Finally, Clay breaks the silence, turning down the radio. "Hey, are you actually not doing anything for your birthday?" 

"What is there to do?" You muse, looking out at the sky, sparse stars twinkling down. "It's no fun on your own."

"What about, you know." You stare at Clay and swear the tips of his ears are going pink. His eyes flicker across the road, to you, and then snap back to the wheel "Him." 

Ah, _him_.The guy that, as of two weeks ago, was your boyfriend. "Oh, him. We, uh, broke up." 

"What?" Something flashes across his face that you can't quite read, and he refuses to meet your gaze, suddenly interesting in staring down the road. "When? What happened?" 

"Oh, about a week ago." Bitterness seeps into your voice, even if you don't mean for it to. "His idea of fun was parting and sleeping around with other girls." 

"What a dick." Clay mutters under his breath, before turning to look at you. "Are you okay? Should I have picked up ice cream?" 

You laugh and shake your head. It was a new wound, but not a deep one. You'd known for awhile he was up to something, you could just never pin it on him until you literally caught him in the act. "I'm alright. It sucks, but I'm not heartbroken over him or anything. He was a dick." 

"If I'm allowed to say, I never did like him. Got weird vibes." It wasn't the first time Clay told you that, but it is the first time he ever said it that whole-heartedly. Before, it was little nudges and comments, even going as far as to drunkenly call him 'the worst man to ever exist'. 

"You say that about anyone who looks at me weird." You add, thinking back to other guys Clay hasn't liked. 

"And I'm always right, 100% of the time. It's proven." Dream pulls into the Mcdonalds parking lot and into the drive-thru. "Normal order?" 

You nod, and Clay turns to order. You'd been here enough times, whether inside or in the drive-thru, that Clay knows it by heart. It's strange, the little gestures that always go unnoticed, compared to others. Clay will always hold open a door, offer to pay, give you any ride you need or listen when you need to speak. 

You were friends. Nothing more. 

But god, did you want to be. Every time he smiles, any time he catches your gaze, you want to die. He makes your heart do _things_ , and you have no idea how to process it. He finally looks back over at he drives forward, and catches you staring. "What?" 

"Nothing." He scowls at you and you laugh, turning your head away. "It's nothing, really." 

"Why don't I believe you?" He stops at the first window and pays, and you hold out your card a second too late. He stares at it, then back up to you with an almost shocked look. "It's your birthday! Did you seriously think you were going to pay?" 

"I might as well offer, I feel like you always pay." He always does, whether it be something small or big. For someone who refuses to spend money on himself, he's weirdly fine with spending it on you.  
He pulls up to the next window with a roll of his eyes, taking the bag of food and handing it to you. "It's your birthday, and I have money to spend. You're a broke college student." 

"Ah yes, I'm so broke I can't afford Mcdonalds. Such a sad existence." You steal a fry from the bag with a smile, and he laughs as he pulls back out onto the road. You look at him in confusion and he just beams at you, pulling away from the main road. "So help me you're kidnapping me, I will eat all this food myself." 

"I'm not kidnapping you, I'm taking you somewhere scenic to eat!" He glances over at you as you unwrap his burger. "I swear to god if you actually take a bite out of it, I will-"

"Relax, green boy," You tease with a smile as you hand it over. "I don't want your gross food anyway." 

He takes the burger with a scoff. "I paid for this gross food, thank you very much. It's delicious." 

"You keep telling yourself that." Driving one-handed, he takes a bite out of the burger and hands it back to you. "One of these days we're going to die from eating out so much." 

"And until that day, we will keep eating out!" You barely catch a glimpse of a sign as you pass, and you turn to look at him with a sigh. "What! I thought you'd like the beach, isn't it like...scenic?" 

"And cliche. God, I can't remember the last time I actually went to the beach." Probably last summer, strangely enough with Clay. Friends of friends were throwing a beach party, so naturally, both of you went. You wanted to spend your time tanning, he wanted to spend it burying you in the sand. Or throwing you in the water. Or just annoying you in general. "Remember that time you forgot to sunscreen on and got all red?" 

"Remember that time a seagull stole your lunch?" You roll your eyes and pick a fry from the bottom of the bag and flick it at him, and it bounces off his shoulder and onto the console. "Hey, you're the one that brought up embarrassing memories." 

Clay pulls into a small parking lot that overlooks the beach, and you unload the rest of the food onto the dash. "Why did you get extra nuggets?" 

"You'll see, open the glove compartment." You give him a look and pop it open, finding a small package of candles amongst a mess of papers. 

"Candles? Oh, you shouldn't have." You pull a lighter from his pocket and takes the package from you. He pulls a red candle from the box and sticks it into one of the nuggets and you laugh at the sight of it. What a perfect birthday gift, a nugget with a candle in it. Speaking of birthdays, you glance down at the clock to see it tick to 12:02. "Hey, I'm officially old now." 

"How the years fly by," Clay mutters as he sparks the lighter and lights the candle, before tossing the lighter back into the backseat, which definitely isn't one of his smartest moods. "Do you need me to sing to you, or do you just want to blow out the candle?" 

You smirk at him as you unplug your seatbelt, finally taking your legs down from the dash to turn and face him. "You have to serenade me, Clay! What kind of birthday would it be without it?" 

"Fine, but you're asking for it." Clay sucks in a deep breath, and you barely have time to clasp your hands over your ears as he starts to belt Happy Birthday. With a scoff, you slap a hand over his mouth, and he grins at you. "Hey, I warned you!" 

"One of these days I'm going to kill you, I swear." You blow out the candle and try to think up a wish, but in your state right now, all you can think about is him. Maybe you should wish for good grades, or money, or for 2020 to get better, but all you can think about is the boy sat right beside you. Clay claps and takes his burger from the dash, tearing into it like he hadn't eaten anything all day. 

Which, honestly, could be true. "So, you're officially old, any wisdom to impart on me?" He manages to say through a mouth full of food. 

"Don't eat yellow snow." Clay looks up from his burger in confusion, and you stare at each other for a long moment. "You...You do know what that means, right?" 

"No?" He says slowly, and you gasp. Sometimes, you forget just how much of a Florida boy he can be. 

"You're kidding!" He stares at you blankly, and you bite into a fry. "It means not to eat snow a dog's peed on. It's like, a saying." 

"Isn't that just common sense?" You give Clay a blank look, because of anyone to talk about common sense, he has none. You can't count how many stupid things he's done around you. "Don't look at me like that." 

You flick another fry at him with a smile. "I don't think you have any common sense there-hey, this is our song!" You don't mean for it to sound like that, but it does. You blush softly as Clay listens intently to the opening words and then turns to look at you. 

_If I could write you a song to make you fall in love, I would already have you up under my arm._

"Oh? It is?" God, he can be so cocky sometimes. You punch his arm with a scowl, leaning back in your chair. 

"Just wait for the next verse, asshole." He laughs and takes a bite from his burger, and you flick a french fry at him. 

"Now you're just wasting food," He mutters with his mouth full, picking it up from the dash and eating it. 

You fake a gag, turning to look out the window. "I can't believe you just ate that, do you know how dusty your dashboard is?" 

"Hey, don't insult the car you're riding in." He gently taps the wheel with a smile, as if it can hear him. "You're doing great bud-" 

"Shut up, shut up, here it is!" You cut him off and Clay listens to the lyrics before breaking out into laughter, and you can't help but laugh along with him. "Get it? You wore those stupid fucking sunglasses all night AND forgot my name! It's like they wrote this song for me." 

"Are you admitting I'm cooler than you?" For what feels like the millionth time, you reach over and punch his arm with a scoff. 

"As if! I'm the one who's cooler." He rolls his eyes and you flick another fry at him, which he manages to catch one-handed and then eat. 

He tosses you another smile and you melt into your seat again. You swear he knows what he's doing as he raises his eyebrows at you and winks before taking another bite out of his burger. "I'm a Minecraft streamer, I'm obviously cooler than you." 

"You're a Minecraft streamer, I'm obviously cooler than you!" You toss one final fry at him and it lands on his lap, but this time he doesn't bother to pick it up. 

"You love me, just admit it." You know he doesn't mean it like that but it still causes your brain to break for a moment as you stare blankly at him before stumbling over your words. 

"You wish! You're one of the most infuriating people I have ever met," You spit out with venom, but the words fall flat as he tosses his head back and laughs, and you punch his arm. 

You just end up hurting your fist more than hurting him. "Come on, just admit it. Under that annoying and exasperated exterior, you actually like me." 

"Why else would I put up with you, dipshit?" It's the truth. Clay might be saying it as a joke, but you do care for him, maybe a bit too much. He can be one of the most annoying people you've ever met, but he's also a wonderful friend.

"My charming good looks and the fact I buy you food." He pretends to flip his hair over his shoulder and flashes you a smile. And, for what feels a rare occurrence, he's right again on both terms. Sure, he buys you food, but he's also charming in his own way. Soft blonde hair, sunkissed skin, you truly feel sad for all those fans who have yet to see his face.

"Okay, the last one was true, you're maybe a 4/10 for me." You say dryly, taking a nugget not covered in wax and biting into it. 

"Oh really?" Clay asks, propping his elbow up on the wheel and resting his chin on his fist. 

You nod, wiggling a finger in his face. "Mhm. You need those sunglasses to block out all the ugly." 

"Say one nice thing about me. I bet you can't." You've never been one to back down from a bet, and this is the perfect opportunity to fluster him as much as he has you tonight. 

"You're one of the kindest people I've ever met. I've been down here for what? a year or two? and you're the first person to treat me like a friend and go out of your way to do things for me. You like to act all humble and pretend you're normal but you're actually an awesome dude and you deserve all the praise you get." Clay's mouth opens slightly, staring down at you as you ramble. What you thought was just your mind making it up before is real now, and his ears are bright pink. "Now, you have to say one nice thing about me." He shuts his mouth and then opens it again before turning his head. You laugh and pull on his arm, loving how flustered he gets whenever he gets compliments. "Come on, say something nice about me!"

"You're beautiful." In a second, you've let go of his arm, hand falling uselessly onto the console, and this was not how tonight was suppose to be heading. Tonight was just friends getting Mcdonalds in the middle of the night. It's you and Clay, doing whatever the hell it is you do, and hanging out. Not confessions in the front seat of his stupid car watching the sea. "And I don't think anyone tells you that enough. That first night we met, I just trailed around after you because all I could think about what how pretty and funny you are. You don't care about what I do, or about my fame or whatever, you just...you care about me." Clay gently takes your hand in his and intertwines his fingers with yours as he cheeks blush. "And every time we hang out, I never want you to leave. There. Happy?" 

Your brain short-circuits, and you just end up staring at him for a moment. He's holding your hand. His hand is soft and warm and fits perfectly into yours, and he stares down at them like it's his first time noticing it too. His eyes slowly rise to meet yours, and you know what he sees. Shock. Confusion. Worry. 

Because if there's one thing you don't want with Clay, it's to fuck things up. Clay is one of the only people you've met who gets you, on a personal level, without having to try. You could sit for hours in silence and it would be normal. You could never leave his side and be perfectly happy for the rest of your life, and it _terrifies_ you. Because if you mess this up, you lose him. His wonderful, funny, cute self would be gone forever. 

And he takes that hesitation as rejection. He slowly slips his hand from yours, and you watch the expression on his face fall and shatter your heart. He doesn't say anything as he cleans up his burger wrappings and shoves it into the bag, and as he turns the key to the car to start.

"Can I admit something?" You say so softly you startle yourself, and Clay turns to look at you with something so close to hope in his eyes it burns. He gives you one small, minuscule nod, and you shift to face him more. The words pause on your tongue, and you wonder how badly you'll regret saying them. "I do think you're cooler than me." 

You expect him to laugh, or to smile, or do something, but instead, his hand comes up to cup your cheek and pulls you into a kiss. You fist your hand into his sweater to keep yourself upright, your body shutting down at what's happening. He's kissing you. 

_He's kissing you_. 

It's soft and sweet and everything Clay is wrapped up into one pure moment, and you swear your heart stops for it. Clay slowly pulls away, eyes half-lidded as he stares you down. You can tell he's waiting for something - rejection, you to shove him away, something. Something negative. Instead, you use your hand still bundled up in his hoodie to yank him forward into another kiss, and his eyes widen comically before slamming shut. 

It slowly moves from soft and sweet into something more, and you unfurl your hand from the fabric of his hoodie to slide your hand up his chest and cup his cheek. "Do you really think I'm cooler," He mutters against your lips softly, "Or were you just saying that?" 

"I mean it," You say with a soft laugh, resting your forehead against his. "Well, maybe." 

"That's the hottest thing you've ever said to me." You slap his arm and he laughs, falling back into his seat with a wheeze. 

"We were having a tender, close moment, and you want to tell me how _hot_ it is?" You say exasperatedly, and he breaks into even more laughter. "You know what, I take it back, you're the worst human being ever." 

"C-Can't take it back now," He manages to breath out in between chokes of laughter. "You said you meant it!" 

"Fine, maybe I did. But you're still the worst human being ever." He smiles over at you and plugs in his seatbelt, and you do the same. 

"You know, I can live with that."


End file.
